Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil

Thrass had seen Patriarch Mitth’oor’akiord exactly three times in his life. The first two had been while visiting the homestead as a child, the third when he was a midager learning the protocols for transporting documents from Avidich to Csilla. All three sightings had been from a distance, but just the same Thrass felt honored to have even glimpsed the man who’d guided the Mitth for the past thirty years. Even the majority of family blood never got such an opportunity.

It was therefore a slightly unnerving surprise when a casual visit with his mother was abruptly interrupted by a summons to Thooraki’s office.

The Patriarch was sitting behind his desk when Thrass arrived, talking with Senior Aide Mitth’iv’iklo. Thooraki looked up as Thrass was ushered in, gave a short nod in silent welcome, and returned to his conversation. Thrass took the cue and stayed where he was, standing at the door well out of earshot. Wondering whether he was here for some special honor, an assignment, or a particularly stinging reprimand.

Two years ago, while admiring Avidich artwork with Cadet Thrawn, Thrass had used the word legendary to describe the Twelfth Patriarch. In his opinion, Patriarch Thooraki had already exceeded even the Twelfth’s record of accomplishments. His skillful diplomacy through the ever-shifting alliances among the Ruling Families had raised the Mitth from a relatively weak stance vis-à-vis the Irizi to full parity with their longtime rivals. Equally important, his work in building relationships within the Forty Great Families had further brought the Mitth out of the political stagnation they’d languished in as recently as a few decades ago.

If this was an assignment, Thrass would do his very best to accomplish it. If it was a reprimand, he would strive to face it with the proper humility, and to learn from it.

At the desk, the two men finished their conversation. “Thrass?” Thooraki called, beckoning.

“Yes, Your Venerante,” Thrass said, hurrying forward. “How may I serve?”

“I’m told you know a Taharim cadet—actually, he’ll have just graduated—a lieutenant in the Expansionary Defense Fleet named Mitth’raw’nuru. Is that correct?”

“I know him slightly, sir, yes,” Thrass said. If it was a reprimand, this was an odd way to begin. “We met at his welcoming dinner, and since then I’ve kept tabs on his time at the academy.”

“Your opinion of him?”

“He has great potential, Your Venerante,” Thrass said, thinking quickly. His interest in Thrawn’s progress had been fairly casual, and it had been several weeks since he’d looked at the Taharim records. Still, apart from that near fiasco with the training simulation, he couldn’t remember hearing that Thrawn was having any problems. As to the simulation question, the fact that he’d not only gotten out from under the cloud but emerged looking better than before spoke volumes about his talents. “I think he’ll be a fine officer.”

“Good,” Thooraki said. “All the more urgency to your assignment, then. I’m told that the Stybla family is hoping to steal him away from us. I want you to go to Naporar, reestablish your old contact with him, and make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Yes, sir,” Thrass said, a little uncertainly. The lack of a reprimand was reassuring; but this was the task he’d been brought into the Patriarch’s Office to receive? To keep a single merit adoptive from being grabbed by another family? And particularly by the Stybla?

Certainly that family had some impressive history. Millennia ago, when the Chiss were first reaching outward to the stars, the Stybla had been the Ruling Family guiding everything and everyone. But as time passed and the Ascendancy grew from one world to many, the Stybla Patriarch had decided the task of governance had become too overwhelming for a single family to handle. His solution had been to step aside and appoint three other families to rule in the Stybla’s place.

Thrass could appreciate the family’s contributions to the Ascendancy. But their time had long since passed, and they had to be delusional to think they could offer Thrawn anything better than what he currently had with the Mitth.

But if Patriarch Thooraki was concerned about even such a minuscule chance of losing Thrawn to some smooth-talking Stybla, Thrass should take it equally seriously. “I’ll leave at once, Your Venerante,” he said. “Am I authorized to offer him any additional incentives?”